If I Fell
by Saralisse
Summary: The entire sixth Harry Potter book rewritten from Draco's point of view. While it is not nearly as in depth as Rowling's work, it took approximately 21 pages in Word. Written for an assignment in my Creative Writing class.
1. I Will Follow You Into The Dark

_Disclaimer: For the entire story, I claim no ownership of characters. Much of the dialogue in scenes that indeed happened within the book is Rowling's, but most of the prose is mine. Any and all detectable Draco-coddling is my fault as well.  
_

* * *

The world was filled with an eerie darkness that swallowed shapes and shadows alike. The sky had no trace of blue in it, no stars shone down from the heavens. There was not a sound emanating from any of the people standing in a circle around the mock altar. Everything was still, except for the beating of Draco's heart.

Only he could hear the pounding that came from his chest, and the sound made him nauseous. It was his birthday, his sixteenth birthday, and this was his party. And what a party it would be, full of Death Eaters and Dark Magic. What more could a sixteen-year-old wizard wish for?

"Lumos." A voice whispered, and the yew wand belonging to that voice lit up the granite gazebo. Draco could see them clearly now, and he gave an involuntary shudder at the sight of the bone-white masks that seemed to whisk away any trace of humanity from each man.

"Are you scared, boy?" The same voice that had lit up the area taunted Draco now.

"No, sir. I am not afraid. Fear is demeaning to the character, and a sign of weakness. I laugh in the face of fear. Muahahaha!" Draco was lying through his teeth, but he wanted nothing more than to impress this man. Impressing him meant impressing his father, and that was his single goal in life. Someday his father would love and admire him, someday.

"Your father taught you well. Let the ceremony begin." The tall man flourished his wand, his red snake-eyes sweeping the room. The only woman wearing a white mask stepped forward and grabbed Draco's wiry arm.

"Imperio," she growled, licking her lips. Draco's body shook in a brief spasm of terror before his eyes went blank. The Death Eater directed Draco to lie upon the altar and drink a small vial of Veritaserum. Draco was then bound to the altar with magic. Releasing him from the Unforgivable Curse, the gruff woman chuckled at the ease of this job.

"Draco Cygnus Malfoy, do you pledge your life to serve under the rule of the Dark Lord for all eternity, no matter what the cost may be?" Another one of the white-masked Death Eaters had stepped forward. This one spoke with a bored drawl not unlike Draco's own voice.

"I do so pledge." Draco's voice was shaky, and there was an element of doubt in his drawl. The man who had spoken stepped back into the circle, and the one man without a mask turned his cold gaze to Draco.

"Are you prepared to receive the mark of servitude from me?" The man hissed at him, wondering how much longer Draco could lie through the Veritaserum.

"Y-y-yes, sir, I am prepared." It was harder this time to prevaricate, mostly because Draco could not keep his mind closed under the influence of Veritaserum.

With that, the Dark Lord himself hissed the incantation. A jet of blue light shot from his wand, and it quickly jumped from the wand to Draco. The blue light emanated from Draco, enveloping him. The light pulsed, like a heartbeat; slowly at first, ever quickening. A flash, pure white, and then the darkness returned. All was submerged into the darkness.

Lord Voldemort had taken his payment from Lucius, but he was not finished with the Malfoys yet. Now it was Narcissa's turn to pay, and her payment would be such enlightening torture. The Dark Lord almost giggled in joy at the thought of the pain it would cause her.

* * *

Draco's left arm started to burn, piercing through the suffocating darkness. He felt compelled to apparate to his bedroom, and so he did. He appeared with a loud pop in the middle of his bed. He sat there in his cold room, with its stone walls and green décor.

He stood suddenly, striding across the room to his mirror. He allowed himself a moment to admire the reflection. His silver-blond hair fell seductively across his forehead, focusing any glance on his cold blue-white eyes. He was tall, with a slim, yet fit, build. His robes were custom tailored to fit him perfectly. He shook his head to clear it and rolled up his left sleeve. There, on his left forearm, was the Dark Mark.

The snake curled perfectly through the lifeless skull. It smelled of acrid smoke, as if it had been burnt onto his arm. He admired the contrast of the black on his pale skin, flexing his thin f_lexor carpi radialis_ muscle. As he lost himself in another moment of narcissism, he heard a hiss. His eyes flew from the mark on his arm to the mirror. There, standing behind him, was the Dark Lord himself.

"What do you want of me, sir? I am your humble servant." Oh, how Draco hoped that that was the correct way to address the Lord of Almighty Darkness and Victory Over Life Itself. He cringed slightly as the Lord moved forward, placing himself between Draco and any mode of escape.

"Draco, I have chosen you for a task that many have failed. If you succeed, you will win glory and fame above all other death eaters. If you fail me, like so many before you have, I will kill your whole family as punishment. Do you understand me?" The Dark Lord spoke loudly, as if he expected someone else to hear.

"Y-yes, my lord, I understand. What is it you would have me do?" Draco stopped the stuttering only to have his body start trembling. With great effort, he shut down the part of his brain that was causing him to tremble.

"You must kill Albus Dumbledore for me. I do not care how, but he must die before the end of your sixth year. Do not fail me, Draco, do not fail me." With those words, Voldemort vanished. Draco let himself tremble a little bit, just to give the rest of his mind time to work things out.

Draco's brain was very compartmentalized, and Draco was very good at shutting down certain compartments. At school, he shut down compassion and pity, making him a very effective bully. At home, he shut down pain and love, because he did not wish to be like his father. He only wished for his father to like him. His mother adored him, frequently sending him gifts and candies. She always signed his father's name, but Draco knew that it was not from him.

His father had never wanted children, and to Lucius, Draco was the worst sort of son. Draco was weak, full of love for his parents. In Lucius' eye, love was a weakness to be trodden on. Draco learned quickly that if he was going to survive as a Malfoy, he was going to need to be a Malfoy, and Malfoys don't cry.

Draco couldn't do much about killing Dumbledore until he was at school, and so he waited to decide on how exactly he was going to go about this job. He waited so long that he nearly forgot about it.


	2. Lyrical Lies

One evening during a lovely dinner party thrown by his mother, Montague mentioned his trip into a Vanishing Cabinet during Draco's fifth year. Montague had finally regained his memory after that little jaunt, and he had the worst grudge for the Weasley twins. No one else really liked the Weasleys, either. Most people looked upon them as a part of the hoi polloi, and not of the royal pureblood families.

Montague mentioned that he could sometimes hear people shopping in Borgin & Burkes, a dodgy shop in Knockturn Alley, but at other times could hear students at Hogwarts. He wondered aloud if the Vanishing Cabinet had a partner at Borgin & Burkes.

"_The cabinet at school is broken. That's probably why Montague didn't just appear in the middle of Knockturn Alley. Maybe, if I could fix the one at Hogwarts, I could sneak the Death Eaters into Hogwarts...But how do you fix a Vanishing Cabinet? Who would know how to…" _Draco was broken out of his reverie by his father raging into the room.

"NARCISSA BLACK MALFOY! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS? HOW DARE YOU INVITE PEOPLE INTO OUR HOME WITHOUT PERMISSION!?" Draco could tell that his father had had a bit too much fire-whiskey with his friends, and Draco immediately stood up. He ushered the guests out into the drawing room, while his mother fled his father's wrath.

"My dear guests, I am sorry for the untimely interruption. Please do not worry for my mother; my father is merely indisposed to having guests without his knowledge. I beg your permission to take my leave." Draco could speak rather eloquently when he wished to speak so.

With these words, he slipped out of the room and down the hall, desperately hoping that his mother was alright. Something had been bothering her lately, bothering her so much that it made her break down into tears whenever she saw him.

"Lucius, I beg of you, stop before you reach the point of no return!" Draco frowned as he heard his mother's frantic tone. Where were they? He sprinted through the halls, attempting to follow his mother's tortured screams of "I LOVE YOU LUCIUS! STOP, PLEASE STOP!!" He spun around a corner and slipped, catching the corner of his robe on an ancient painting of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. His robe tore, and Draco swore rather loudly as he picked himself up.

"DRACO CYGNUS MALFOY!" _'Oh dear… Father must have heard me…" _Draco trudged towards the sound of his father now, wondering what the punishment would be this time.

"Son, we are very disappointed in your choice of vocabulary. We do not pay for you to go to school at one of the finest wizarding institutions on the continent just so you can learn such words." His mother spoke calmly, as if Lucius had not been beating her a few moments before.

"Yes, mother. I'm sorry. I will be more careful from now on." Draco's eyes pleaded with his mother's, begging her to stop whatever Lucius had in mind. She stared blankly back at him, trying to make Draco see that she had no power over her husband.

"Son, come here." Lucius stood stoically across the room, the fireplace crackling alarmingly and casting an uncanny red glow on Lucius' shoulder length blond hair. Lucius grinned maniacally as Draco shuffled towards him, thousands of different tortures racing through his head. Draco's mind was preoccupied with shutting down the part that felt pain. He would never let his father see the pain it caused him every time Lucius drank too much.

* * *

A/N: The chapters will vary greatly in length because I am splitting up a chapterless document into chapters, of sorts. Please read and review. If you came here from Mirror, grazie.


	3. Here's To The Night

Draco's physical bruises had healed well, but the bruises on his ego were still black and blue. The tears he had cried on his pillow had long since dried, but they were still pouring down on the inside. He was as arrogant as ever on the outside, but somewhere deep inside he wished he could stop caring. His father had been sent to Azkaban upon the word of Harry Potter, and that had torn Draco deep inside.

Narcissa and Draco were walking down Diagon Alley. Rather, Narcissa strode proudly while Draco trudged along behind her, avoiding the glances of people on the street. His father was now in prison, and couldn't hurt them anymore, but that seemed to be the only good it had done. His father still loathed him, and now there was nothing left, short of breaking into Azkaban, that Draco could do to impress Lucius.

Narcissa swept into Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions, hoping to get her shopping done quickly. It hurt her to see Draco in such pain, but there wasn't much she could do. Draco just pushed her away.

"I'm not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping _alone._" As Draco whined to Narcissa, a familiar trio entered the store, unnoticed by those already in the shop.

"Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with you being a child -"

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!" Madam Malkin glared at her customer as he rudely interrupted her. The dark green robes hanging from Draco's thin frame glittered with pins. Draco strode to the mirror to examine himself; it was a few moments before he noticed Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger reflected over his shoulder.

"If you're wondering what that smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in." Draco's voice cut sharply into the ears of the other two boys, who immediately drew their wands.

"I don't think there's any need for language like that! And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!" Madam Malkin scurried in between the opposing teens, hoping to end the conflict quietly.

"No, don't, honestly, it's not worth it…" Granger stood slightly behind the two boys, looking worried. Her eye was black and blue, as if someone had hit her with a good uppercut.

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school. Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers." Weasley took a menacing step towards Draco as Madam Malkin broke into a sweat.

"That's quite enough!" Frazzled and frightened, Madam Malkin turned in circles, pleading with each person to stop. Narcissa Malfoy strolled out from behind the clothes rack.

"Put those away," she said coldly to Potter and Weasley. "If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do." Her face wore a sneer that could kill a cow.

"Really?" said Potter, taking a step forward and gazing into the smoothly conceited face that, for all the evil twisted into it, still resembled her sister's. "Going to get a few Death Eater palls to do us in, are you?"

Draco uttered a hiss as Madam Malkin squealed in shock. _'How dare he insult my family in public? If it was legal, Potter, I… I… I would kill you so fast you wouldn't know what hit you. You deserve death, God knows, for all the pain you've caused my family…' _

"Really, you shouldn't accuse – dangerous thing to say – wands away, please!" Madam Malkin spoke harshly now. It was obvious that she wished for the lot of them to disappear. Narcissa merely smiled unpleasantly as Potter stared her down.

"I see that being Dumbledore's favorite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you." Draco allowed himself a small smile of pride at his mother's words, but at the same time they made him wonder. Did his mother know of his assignment? Meanwhile, Potter was looking mockingly around the store.

"Wow…look at that… he's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!" Draco made an angry movement towards Harry but stumbled over his overlong robe. Weasley laughed loudly, and Draco's cheeks flushed lightly.

"Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" Malfoy snarled.

"It's all right, Draco," said Narcissa, restraining him with her thin white fingers upon his shoulder. "I expect Potter will be united with dear Sirius long before I am reunited with Lucius." Potter raised his wand higher, ready to strike.

"Harry, no!" moaned Granger, grabbing his arm and attempting to hold it down by his side. "Think…you mustn't…You'll be in such trouble…" Madam Malkin dithered for a moment, then seemed to decide to act as if nothing was happening in the hope that it wouldn't. She bent toward Malfoy, who was still glaring at Potter.

"I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just –"

Draco's mind was racing. She couldn't see the mark…She couldn't! What was he supposed to do?

"OUCH!" bellowed Draco, slapping her hand away. "Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother – I don't think I want these anymore –" He pulled the robes over his head and threw them onto the floor at Madam Malkin's feet.

"You're right, Draco," said Narcissa, who was glaring contemptuously at Granger, "now I know the kind of scum that shops here…We'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's."

And with that, the pair of them strode out of the shop, Draco taking care to bang as hard as he could into Weasley on the way out. They walked on in silence for awhile.

"That was smart of you, Draco, to avoid letting Madam Malkin see your mark. I expect such constant vigilance from you." Narcissa spoke warmly. It was not often she was allowed alone time with her son.

Draco rolled his eyes at her comments, remembering a certain Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who always yelled "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" He turned out to be a Death Eater in disguise, but that's just how things work. Maybe 'Constant Vigilance' was a Death Eater saying?

Narcissa's heart sank as she watched her son pull away. She wanted nothing more than to be a real mom, one who could just sit and love her child. But the pain and the death and the evil in this world had made it hard to be that kind of mom. Marrying Lucius hadn't helped the cause much, either.

"Mother…You know my size; can't you get my robes while I buy my potions equipment from the Apothecary? It would much faster, and that way we'd have more time to visit Father." Draco was attempting to be sly. He needed to find a way to make it down to Borgin & Burkes alone.

"Draco, it's not safe." She lowered her voice so that Draco himself could barely hear her. "We must pretend to be worried of attack. The general public is in danger still, Draco. You should know this. Perhaps the Dark Lord was wrong when he said you were ready for this."

"Mother, you blaspheme. The Dark Lord is always right. And every other teenager is begging to be set free. Even Potter, whom most of the wizarding world thinks of as invincible, had a guardian that he was evading." Draco rolled his eyes once more.

"Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you are not. You are staying with me, and that is final…" Narcissa had lost the finality in her tone, though. After a quick look to make sure no one was watching, Draco's eyes grew wide, tears glistening. His lips were pouted, and his cheeks were flushed. "Draco, stop it. You know how easily I cave to your puppy dog eyes."

Draco's only response was to have the tears glisten almost menacingly as a few slid down his cheeks.

"Fine, child. Meet me by the carriage in no less than an hour. I will expect you to have all of your potions equipment, and not too much extra. _And keep yourself inconspicuous!_" She hissed, glaring slightly as Draco's teary face melted away into jubilance.

"Thank you, mother."Although he was cool and collected on the outside, on the inside he was quite literally jumping in joy. He rushed away, slamming into a couple first-years who were nervous enough about shopping in Diagon Alley. Without pausing to say sorry, he sped off to the Apothecary.

Once inside the Apothecary, he pushed past the families crowding the shop to the very front. Stopping to speak in low tones with the owner, he gathered his ingredients quickly and was out the door before most of the customers had found their first potions kit.

He hurried back up the street, rushing past Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and turning quietly onto Knockturn Alley. He looked swiftly around, making sure he wasn't being watched by anyone, but they were all too intent on minding their own business to notice a small blond boy ducking into Knockturn Alley.

He rushed down the alley, straight to Borgin & Burkes. Any other day he would have strolled leisurely through, glancing at the wares and laughing at the feeble attempts to create true dark magic, but today was different. Today he had to hurry. Today he had to complete a mission. Today he had to be a man.

Luckily, the shop was empty. Draco strode quickly to the front of the shop.

"Mr. Borgin! Mr. Burkes!" He said loudly, feeling important. Mr. Borgin, oily-haired and stooped, stepped out of the shadowy back room.

"What is it, young Master Malfoy? Where are your parents?" Mr. Borgin seemed wary, as if he'd had enough trouble for the day.

"My errand is my own, Borgin, and I ask you to keep it to yourself."

"I see. Proceed." Mr. Borgin inclined his head, look mildly interested.

"You see this vanishing cabinet, here? I have found its brother, which is broken. I believe the charm has worn off slightly, and there may be some broken wood in the back of the cabinet. I was wondering, would you know how to fix it?"

"Possibly," said Borgin, in a tone that suggested he was unwilling to commit himself. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it in to the shop?"

"I can't," said Draco. "It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it." Borgin licked his lips nervously.

"Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" said Draco, sneering. "Perhaps this will make you more confident." He moved towards Borgin, rolling up his left sleeve just enough for the Dark Mark to be visible. Borgin jumped backward, babbling a little in his shock.

"Tell anyone," said Draco, "and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention." Draco's words were harsh, and Borgin shuddered.

"There will be no need for –"

"I'll decide that," said Draco. "Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep that one safe, I'll need it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"

"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it!" Draco was frustrated. _'How could people be so stupid?'_

"Of course not… sir." Borgin bowed deeply.

"Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?"

"Naturally, naturally." Borgin had decided that he did not like the more powerful version of Draco. He bowed deeply once more, and was relieved when Draco flew out the door.

Draco stormed up the street, turning angrily onto Diagon Alley. He walked briskly to the carriage, leaping in without a second thought. He quickly realized that although his mother was not yet there, his Lord was.

"Draco…Have you succeeded in your task yet?" The Dark Lord scowled down at the young blond boy.

"N-n-no, my lord. I have formulated a plan, however I have not yet had the chance to execute said plan. I did not want to act hastily and make a crucial mistake." Draco gave a weak smile.

"Wise beyond the years of your father, I see. It is well that you have taken time to think things over; indeed, I am impressed that a child of your stature would be so shrewd. I admit, I had expected the rash indecision of your father." Voldemort's voice grated in Draco's ears.

"Thank you, my lord." Draco did not think it so wise to speak long with the Dark Lord in private.

"Do not wait too long, young one. The snake can only wait so long before it devours the dragon." Voldemort stepped lightly out of the carriage, vanishing into the wind. Draco sat in stunned silence until his mother arrived in the carriage.

"Draco, darling, are you feeling well? I can send you home before I go visit your Father, if you feel the need to lie down." Narcissa worried much too much about her favorite son.

"Yes, Mother, I feel fine. I wish to see father." Draco tried to smile, hoping to reassure his Mother,

"Draco, dear, I would feel much better if I left you at home. You look awful." It was true, Draco couldn't disagree. He had broken into a cold sweat, and he was sure his normally perfect china-doll skin had turned a sick grey. _'Maybe mother is right…'_


	4. Push

It was the first day of term, and Draco had been sulky all morning. His breakfast had been cold, his father was in prison, and his new robes did not look as good on him as they should have.

His mother somehow managed to hold her head high when she walked down Platform 9¾. There were jeers coming from some of the train carriages, mostly the ones containing Gryffindors. Draco tried to walk as haughtily as she did, but he accidentally stumbled over some first years. The same first years he had mowed down in Diagon Alley, in fact. That earned him some unappreciated laughs.

He bowed to his Mother in a respectful gesture of farewell, unlike the riff-raff that hugged and kissed each other. She gave a slight nod, and he was off to find his friends and his minions.

"Draco! It's so good to see you again. How have you been, darling?" Draco turned wearily towards the high-pitched voice. Sure enough, it was his "girlfriend" Pansy Parkinson. She was a petty mooch, but he had to keep up appearances at school. Pansy was a rather rich girl, not that she ever used her own riches, and not bad looking if you squinted in the right light.

"Hello, Pansy, dear. My summer went quite well, aside from… Well, I suppose you heard the news?" Draco feigned weariness, hoping it would set Pansy off on one of her sympathy rants.

"Oh, yes, Drakkie-kins, I heard the news. I've been meaning to talk to you about it. It must be so horrible, having to deal with all the bad publicity on your family. I've even been dragged into it. People accused my father of being in league with the Dark Lord in public, can you believe it? Drakkie-kins, I don't know how you ever held up against all this pressure. It must be so painful, watching your father rot away in prison, wasting his life in a dirty cell in Azkaban." Draco had been right, for Pansy continued on in this fashion as Draco searched for Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe.

After what seemed to be hours, but could have only been minutes, Draco found them sitting in a carriage all to themselves. Draco sat down leisurely across from the three of them, hoping to have the seat all to himself. Pansy trashed this hope by sitting down by his head. She stroked his hair, murmuring what she thought were words of comfort.

They sat like that, with Draco and Pansy on one side of the carriage and Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle on the other side. They were in deep conversation about their plans for the year, and the events of the summer.

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the opening of the carriage door. A small, timid third-year girl stepped in. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Draco, and she uttered a few incomprehensible words before she finally stuttered out "I'm supposed to deliver this to B-b-blaise Zabini…." She trailed off as Blaise stood up to take from her hand a scroll of parchment tied in a violet ribbon.

"Thank you, miss." Blaise spoke regally, frightening the girl even more. She scampered out, nearly tripping over the doorjamb. The Slytherins shared a snicker before Blaise opened the scroll.

"What is it?" Draco demanded.

"An invitation," Blaise replied.

_Blaise,_

_I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C._

_Sincerely,  
_**Professor H. E. F. Slughorn**

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" asked Pansy, a confused look adorning her face.

"Probably a new teacher. There are a few slots open." Draco sighed exasperatedly at Pansy. Why had he ever agreed to date such a stupid girl?

"What do you suppose he wants from me?" Blaise seemed perplexed, probably due to the fact that most people invited Draco to events, not Blaise.

"Who knows? You should go…Free food is always good." Gregory Goyle spoke up for the first time, a rare thing in any situation. Everyone looked at him for a few moments, shocked.

"Well, that decides it. I'm off to lunch with Professor Slughorn. I'll see you later, Draco." With that, Blaise stepped lightly out the door.

The hours passed slowly for Draco. Without Blaise in the compartment, there was very little in the way of intelligent conversation. The small group wheedled away the hours by making crude jokes about Dumbledore's Chosen Triumvirate, better known as Granger, Potter, and Weasley. Crabbe had learned a new word over the summer, and exclaimed loudly about it for an hour at least.

Finally, Blaise returned. He turned to close the compartment door behind him, only to have the door refuse to close. Draco sniggered as Blaise struggled with the sliding door. Suddenly, and quite violently, the door slid itself open. Blaise, who had been holding on to the handle, toppled over sideways into Goyle. In the ensuing ruckus, most of which was caused by Blaise and Goyle snarling at each other, Draco could have sworn he saw a trainer whip itself up into the luggage rack.

Goyle slammed the door shut, flinging Blaise off of him in the process. Blaise sat down in his own seat looking very ruffled. Draco rearranged himself to be more comfortable, placing his head in Pansy's lap. Pansy smirked happily at this turn of events, stroking his sleek blond hair with a renewed zeal.

"So, Blaise," said Draco, "what did Slughorn want?"

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people," said Blaise, who was still glowering at Goyle. "Not that he managed to find many."

This information did not please Draco in the least bit.

'Who else had he invited?" he demanded.

"McLaggen from Gryffindor," said Blaise.

"Oh yeah, his uncle's big in the ministry," said Malfoy.

"– someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw – "

"Not him, he's a prat!" said Pansy.

"–and Longbottom, Potter, and that Weasley girl," finished Blaise. Draco sat up very suddenly, knocking Pansy's hand aside.

"He invited _Longbottom_?"

"Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there," said Blaise indifferently.

"What's Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?" Blaise shrugged in reply.

"Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at '_the Chosen One' _" sneered Draco, "but that Weasley girl! What's so special about _her_?"

"A lot of boys like her," said Pansy, watching Draco out of the corner of her eyes for his reaction. "Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!"

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like," said Blaise coldly, and Pansy looked pleased. Draco sank back into her lap and allowed her to resume petting his hair.

"Well, I pity Slughorn's taste. Maybe he's going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite if his. Slughorn probably hasn't heard I'm on the train, or – "

"I wouldn't bank on an invitation," said Blaise. "He asked me about Nott's father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he'd been caught at the Ministry he didn't look happy, and Nott didn't get an invitation, did he? I don't think Slughorn's interested in Death Eaters."

Malfoy looked angry, but forced out a singularly humorless laugh. "Well, who cares what he's interest in? What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher." Draco yawned ostentatiously. "I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what's it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?"

"What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?" exclaimed Pansy indignantly, ceasing grooming Draco at once.

"Well, you never know," said Draco with the phantom of smirk. "I might have – er – moved onto bigger and better things."

Crabbe and Goyle gasped audibly, apparently they had no inkling of the fact that their leader might be moving on to bigger and better things. Even Blaise allowed a look of inquisitiveness to mar his haughty features, while Pansy forced herself to continue stroking Draco's hair.

"Do you mean –– _Him_?" she whispered. Draco shrugged.

"Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it was that important these days. I mean, think about it…When the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone's got? Of course he isn't…It'll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of dominion he obtained through you." Draco smirked, thinking _'And once the Dark Lord approves of me, my father will too.'_

"And you think _you'll_ be able to do something for him?_"_said Blaise scathingly. "Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?"

"I've just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for," said Draco quietly.

Pansy gazed down at Draco as if she had never seen anything so awe-inspiring in her life. Crabbe and Goyle were just staring into space, the mouths open like gargoyles.

"I can see Hogwarts," said Draco, relishing the effect he had created as he pointed out of the blackened window. "We'd better get our robes on."

Goyle reached up to the luggage rack to grab his trunk, and as he swung it down Draco heard a gasp. Draco frowned up at the luggage rack, trying to figure out where it had come from. Draco shook his head; he must have been imagining it. He pulled on his robes like the others, locked his trunk, and fastened a thick new cloak from Twilfitt and Tatting's around his neck.

The train came to a lurching stop, and Goyle threw the door open. He muscled his way past a group of second years, punching them aside; Crabbe and Blaise followed. _'What if I hadn't imagined that noise?'_

"You go on," Draco told Pansy, who was waiting for him with her hand held out as if she wished he would hold it. "I just want to check something." Pansy left and Draco closed the compartment door. He bent over his trunk, opening it again. Without warning to the mysterious thing in the luggage rack, Draco pointed his wand up towards where the noise had come from.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

Draco watched with smug satisfaction as Harry Potter fell out of the luggage rack and hit the floor with a sick, floor-shaking crash. Potter landed at Draco's feet, his Invisibility Cloak trapped beneath him. Potter could not move, only gaze up at Draco, who was smiling broadly.

"I thought so," he said jubilantly. "I heard Goyle's trunk hit you. And I thought I saw something white flash through the air after Blaise came back…" His eyes lingered for a moment upon Harry's trainers. "You didn't hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I've got you here…"

He stamped, hard, on Potter's face. There was a slight crunch as the bone gave way; blood spurted everywhere.

"That's from my father. Now, let's see…" Draco dragged the cloak out from under Potter's immobilized body and threw it over him.

"I don't reckon they'll find you till the train is back in London," he said quietly. "See you around, Potter… or not." Treading carefully on Potter's fingers, Draco left.

* * *

A/N: Pansy is my favorite right now. I remember writing this and just being so happy as I got to understand Pansy a little better. She's so obsessed. It's kinda fun.


	5. Fighting

The days passed quickly for Draco. Classes were merely tedious obstacles he had to overcome. He focused on his main goal: to complete the task given to him by the Dark Lord. He had a couple of unsuccessful attempts over the year, before he started his big campaign.

The first attempt almost led to him being discovered by Potter. He had managed to cast the Imperius curse on Madam Rosmerta during one of the Hosmeade trips, forcing her to deliver a small package containing a cursed opal necklace that he had bought at Borgin & Burkes. Madam Rosmerta delivered the package to Katie Bell, a seventh-year Gryffindor. She told Katie that it was a Christmas gift for Dumbledore, and that it should be delivered immediately.

This probably would have worked, had Katie not accidentally touched the necklace during a fight with her friend Leanne. The curse immediately started upon Katie. Draco watched from a distance as Katie rose gracefully into the sky, her arms outstretched. Those who had a first-hand account would have said it was eerie… Her hair whipped around her face by a fierce wind, but her face was empty of emotions. She rose steadily to six feet, and suddenly let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open and whatever she saw was clearly causing her anguish. She screamed, long and loud. Leanne screamed as well, tugging on Katie's ankles in hopes of pulling her back down.

Draco let out a few chuckles. It was too bad this wouldn't work, but at least he got a bit of sport out of it. He watched as Katie tumbled from the sky, writhing in pain. She was almost caught by her friends, only to twist out of the grasp onto the cold ground. She thrashed and screamed, unable to recognize any of them. Of course, Potter had to rush in and save the day. Draco moaned in defeat as he watched that wretched Potter call attention to his cursed classmate. Of course, Potter told Professor McGonagall that he suspected Draco, and Draco received a detention.

Later in the year, Draco was heading to the Room of Requirement to work on fixing the Vanishing Cabinet. Argus Filch caught him as he was passing in front of the curtain, and Draco quickly thought up an excuse for being out after hours.

"I was heading to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party, sir, and was delayed." Filch dragged him by the ear all the way to the party, eager to punish a Slytherin.

"Professor Slughorn," wheezed Filch, a maniacal light of mischief-detection shining in his bulging eyes, "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?"

Draco pulled free of Filch's grip, rubbing his sore ear, looking furious.

"All right, I wasn't invited!" he said angrily. "I was trying to gate-crash, happy?"

"No, I'm not!" said Filch, a statement that was completely at odds with look of utter jubilation on his face. "You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the headmaster say that nighttime prowling's out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?"

"That's all right, Argus, that's all right," said Slughorn, waving a hand airily. "It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco."

Filch's expression of outrage and disappointment was almost satisfying to Draco, even though it matched his own. When was he ever going to get a chance to fix that Vanishing Cabinet? He couldn't run his Master Plan without it. As Draco glanced around the party, skimming past the vampire and other out-of-place guests, he noticed Snape glaring at him. Draco quickly pasted a smile onto his pasty face and murmured thanks to Professor Slughorn.

"It's nothing, nothing," said Slughorn. "I did know your grandfather, after all…:

"He always spoke very highly of you, sir." Draco spoke quickly. "Said you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known…" Draco hoped he could get out of here soon, someone was bound to notice the dark circles under his eyes and the grayish tinge in his skin. Sleepless nights alone with Voldemort threatening you can change a man, after all.

"I'd like a word with you, Draco," said Snape suddenly. "Follow me." They walked down to his office. Or rather, Draco sulked down to Snape's office. Once inside, Snape turned on Draco.

"You cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled –"

"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?"

"I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it."

"Who suspects me?" said Draco angrily. "For the last time, I didn't do it, okay? The Bell girl must've had an enemy no one knows about – don't look at me like that! I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid, but it won't work – I can stop you!"

There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, "Ah… I see that Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?"

"I'm not trying to conceal anything from _him,_ I just don't want _you _butting in!"

"So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared my interference? You realize that, had anybody else failed to come to my office when I had told them repeatedly to be there, Draco –"

"So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!" jeered Draco.

There was another pause. Then Snape said, "You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things."

"You'd better stop telling me to come to your office then!" Draco was still on the defensive.

"Listen to me," said Snape, his voice so low that Draco could barely hear him, "I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco –"

"Looks like you'll have to break it , then, because I don't need your protection! It's my job, he gave it to me and I'm doing it, I've got a plan and it's going to work, it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!" Draco was so sick of hearing Snape's excuses. If only he could have a night of sleep, a night without nightmares of Voldemort.

"What is your plan?"

"It's none of your business!"

"If you tell me what you are trying to do, I can assist you –"

"I've got all the assistance I need, thanks, I'm not alone!"

"You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridors without lookouts or backup, these are elementary mistakes –"

"I would've had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn't put them in detention!" Draco was yelling now, and his face a definite shade of pink.

"Keep your voice down!" spat Snape. "If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L this time around, they will need to work a little harder than they are doing at pres –"

"What does it matter?" said Draco. "Defense Against the Dark Arts – it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like any of us need protecting against the Dark Arts –"

"It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco! Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle –"

"They're not the only ones; I've got other people on my side, better people!"

"Then why not confide in me, and I can –"

"I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!"

There was another pause, and then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but –" Before Snape could finish speaking, Draco turned on his heel and burst out of the door, striding away down the corridor in anger.

* * *

A/N: I think I cut some things from this. I don't think I had time to write them in, and so I just made some painful executive decisions. I have a feeling Ron didn't make it into this cut. Maybe some day if I have time I will go back and write all of that in.


	6. Let Go

Draco's friends grew more and more curious about his strange mission. He sent Crabbe and Goyle out on stranger and stranger tasks. Pansy grew sick with worry of her 'little Drakkie-kins' and his problems. Draco grew sicker and sicker as he lost more and more sleep over the mission.

He missed class. He worked and he worked, but he kept finding more things wrong with the Vanishing Cabinet. Mr. Borgin could only help him so much, what with the mail being searched.

There were days where he couldn't handle the pressure that Voldemort constantly increased upon him. He broke down in the bathroom, only to be discovered by Moaning Myrtle.

"Don't," crooned Myrtle, "Don't…tell me what's wrong…I can help you…I understand…"

"No one can help me," said Draco. His whole body shook with wracking sobs. "I can't do it…I can't…It won't work…and unless I do it soon…he says he'll kill me…" He paused to gasp for air. "a-a-and my whole family…" Suddenly, he spied Potter himself staring at Draco from behind.

Draco spun around, drawing his wand. Potter drew his as well. Draco's hex missed Potter by inches, shattering a lamp on the wall instead. Potter flicked a curse towards Draco, but it was deflected. He raised his wand to shoot another curse towards Potter as Myrtle screamed.

"No! No! Stop it! Stop! STOP!"

There was a loud bang, and something exploded behind Potter. Potter then managed to smash the cistern below Myrtle; water poured everywhere and Potter slipped. Draco's face was contorted in concentration. He cried, "Cruci –"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" bellowed Harry from the floor.

Blood spurted from Draco's face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backward and collapsed onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand.

The world spun for a moment before Draco sunk into a black darkness not unlike the night that he received his Dark Mark. His face shone scarlet, his white hands sprawled across the floor in stark contrast to the crimson that spread slowly.

Potter received detention for the rest of the year. Draco received a dreadful pain in his chest for months after he awoke.

* * *

Draco awoke one morning, fresh from a night of wonderful sleep. He had finished the Vanishing Cabinet yesterday. His plan was put into action already. That evening, his help would arrive. That evening, the Death Eaters would invade Hogwarts.

After what seemed like years, but was truly only a few classes, the time had come. Draco snuck away to the Room of Requirement. He helped the Death Eaters through the Vanishing Cabinet one by one, smiling to himself the entire time. He had done it! He had accomplished his task by himself!

The Death Eaters did not seem to keen on taking orders. Draco's aunt Bellatrix led a group out through the school, invading the classrooms. Miraculously, Dumbledore was nowhere to be found.


	7. Let That Be Enough

The door of the Astronomy Tower burst open and Draco burst through, shouting "Expelliarmus!" By the light of the Dark Mark that hovered over the school, he watched Dumbledore's wand fly in an arc over the edge of the ramparts. Draco caught it, and stood still in the shadows.

Standing in the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore showed no sign of panic or stress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said "Good evening, Draco."

Draco stepped forward, glancing around quickly to check that he and Dumbledore were alone. His eyes fell upon the pair of brooms laying on the ramparts.

"Who else is here?"

"A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?"

"No," he said. "I've got backup. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight."

"Well, well," said Dumbledore, as if Draco was showing him an ambitious homework project. "Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?"

"Yeah," said Draco, panting. "Right under your nose and you never realized!"

"Ingenious. Yet…forgive me…where are they now? You seem unsupported."

"They met some of your guards. They're having a fight down below. They won't be long…I came on ahead, I – I've got a job to do."

"Well then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy," said Dumbledore softly. Draco's mind was racing in panic. Could he really do this? More importantly, did Dumbledore know?

There was silence. All Draco could do was stare at Albus Dumbledore, who, incredibly, smiled.

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

"How do you know?" said Draco at once. He realized quickly how childish the words sounded and flushed. "You don't know what I'm capable of," he said more forcefully. "You don't know what I've done!"

"Oh, yes, I do," said Dumbledore mildly. '_Does this man know everything, Lord?_' thought Draco. "You almost killed Katie Bell. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts…so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has really been in it."

"It has been in it!" said Draco vehemently. "I've been working on it all year, and tonight –"

"Yes, you have managed to introduce Death Eaters into my school, which, I admit, I though impossible…How did you do it?"

Draco said nothing; he was listening to the fight below, which had grown increasingly discordant, a cacophony of screams and curses.

"Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone," suggest Dumbledore. "What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard? As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the Phoenix here tonight too. And after all, you don't really need help…I have no wand at the moment…I cannot defend myself."

Draco merely stared at him.

"I see. You are afraid to act until they join you."

"I'm not afraid!" snarled Draco. "It's you who should be scared."

"But why? I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as easy as the innocent believe…So tell me, while we wait for your friends…how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken you a long time to work out how to do it."

Draco looked as if he was fighting back the urge to vomit. He gulped, taking several breaths at once, all the while glaring at Dumbledore. Draco's wand was pointed directly at Dumbledore's heart. Then, as though he could not help himself, he said "I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one's used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year."

"Aaaah. That was clever…There is a pair, I take it?"

"In Borgin and Burkes, and they make a kind of passage between them. Montague told me that when he was stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was trapped in limbo but sometimes he could hear what was going on at school, and sometimes what was going on in the shop, as if the cabinet was traveling between them, but he couldn't make anyone hear him…In the end, he managed to apparate out, even though he'd never passed his test. He nearly died doing it. Everyone thought it was a really good story, but I was the only one who realized what it meant – even Borgin didn't know – I was the one who realized there could be a way into Hogwarts through the cabinets if I fixed the broken one."

"Very good," murmured Dumbledore. "So the Death Eaters were able to pass from the shop into the school to help you…a clever plan, a very clever plan…and, as you say, right under my nose."

"Yeah," said Draco, who thought bizarrely that Dumbledore's words were encouraging and comforting. "Yeah, it was!"

"But there were times, weren't there, when you were not sure you would succeed in mending the cabinet? And you resorted to crude and badly judged measures such as sending me a cursed necklace that was bound to reach the wrong hands…"

"Yeah, well, you didn't realize it was me behind all that stuff, did you?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. I was sure it was you."

"Why didn't you stop me, then?"

"I tried, Draco. Professor Snape was been keeping watch over you on my orders –"

"He hasn't been doing it on your orders, he promised my mother –"

"Of course that is what he would tell you, Draco, but –"

"He's a double agent, you stupid old man, he isn't working for you, you just think he is!"

"We must agree to differ on that, Draco. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape –"

"Well, you're losing your grip, then! He's been offering me plenty of help – wanting all the glory for himself – wanting a bit of action – 'What are you doing?' 'Did you do the necklace, that was stupid, it could have blown everything –' But I haven't told him what I've been doing in the Room of Requirement, he's going to wake up tomorrow and it'll all be over and he won't be the Dark Lord's favorite anymore, he'll be nothing compared to me, _nothing_!"

"Very gratifying. We all like appreciation for our own hard work, of course."

"Yeah, and I'll finally get the appreciation I deserve. I've finally proved to my father that I'm smarter than some damned Mudblood!"

"Please do not use that offensive word in front of me."

"You care about me saying 'Mudblood' when I'm about to kill you?" said Draco with a harsh laugh.

"Yes, I do. But as for being about to kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now, we are quite alone, I am more defenseless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted…" Draco's mouth contorted involuntarily, as though he had tasted something very bitter. "There is little time, one way or another, so let us discuss your options, Draco."

"My options? I'm standing here with a wand – I'm about to kill you!"

"My dear boy, let us have no more pretense about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me, you would not have stopped for a pleasant chat about ways and means."

"I haven't got any options!" said Draco, white as a sheet of paper. "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!"

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position. Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized that I suspected you."

Draco winced at the sound of the name.

"I can help you, Draco."

"No, you can't," said Draco, his wand hand shaking very badly indeed. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice!" Tears had started to fill the rims of his eyes, and he blinked them back hard.

"He cannot kill you if you are already dead. Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send mothers of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise. Come over to the right side, Draco…You are not a killer…"

"But I got this far, didn't I? They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here…and you're in my power…I'm the one with the wand…You're at my mercy…:

"No, Draco. It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

Draco stood there, shell-shocked, until the Death Eaters burst in across from where he had Dumbledore cornered.

"Dumbledore cornered! Dumbledore wandless and alone! Well done, Draco," shouted one of the Death Eaters.

"Do it," growled Fenrir Greyback, a powerful smell of blood crashing off of him in waves.

"I am a little shocked that Draco invited you, of all people, into the school where his friends live…" Dumbledore wrinkled his nose politely.

"I didn't! I didn't know he was going to come –" Draco stood more irresolutely than ever. He looked terrified as he stared into Dumbledore's face. Amidst the shouts of "DO IT, DRACO!" and "QUICKLY NOW!", Snape appeared.

"We've got a problem, Snape. The boy doesn't seem able –"

But somebody else had spoke Snape's name, quite softly.

"Severus…" Snape said nothing, but walked slowly forward, pushing Draco aside roughly. He gazed at Dumbledore for a few moments, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

"Severus…please…"

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

A jet of green light shot from his wand and hit Dumbledore square in the chest. Dumbledore was blasted into the air, falling slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.

* * *

Snape grabbed Draco by the scruff of the neck and hauled him off. They ran through the halls, chased by Potter himself. After much yelling and curse throwing, they were gone.

And that was that. Dumbledore was dead; Draco's deed was accomplished. What was left for them now but to hide and to run until the Dark Lord reigned forevermore?

And yet the sound of Dumbledore's weakened, pleading voice in his final moments haunted Draco like no other sound. It was worse than the nightmares of Voldemort, for those he had learned to block out. There was nothing that was worth hearing Dumbledore like that, nothing in this entire world.

Not even the approval of his father.

* * *

A/N: And that's it. I loved writing it, and I got an A on the assignment. I hope you enjoyed reading it. I also just realized that all of my chapter titles are songs from the CD that my starshine burnt me. ;


End file.
